


Golden Days: Justin

by oiuytrewq36



Series: Soundtrack Trilogy, combined and expanded [20]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:33:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28705230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oiuytrewq36/pseuds/oiuytrewq36
Summary: Some advice on moving, for people whose boyfriends are neurotic freaks:1. Do not offer to help with packing his stuff.2. Do not offer to help withunpacking his stuff.3. Do not question the overly specific box labels.Unfortunately, most of this was not knowledge that I had before we moved to New York. So, on the second day in our new home, instead of wandering the spacious rooms of the condo, taking the elevator in between the two floors just for the hell of it, and drawing in the sun on the balcony, I find myself in a corner of the bedroom, sorting through boxes labeled shit like “nightstand top drawer,” “closet upper shelf,” and “dildos (non-battery)”.
Relationships: Brian Kinney/Justin Taylor (Queer as Folk)
Series: Soundtrack Trilogy, combined and expanded [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2077905
Comments: 7
Kudos: 35





	Golden Days: Justin

**Author's Note:**

> inspiration credit for this one goes to SaKha, who reminded me that I really do need to write a rom-com chapter at some point. this isn’t really that, to be honest, but the idea came out of a related brainstorm.
> 
> also, to L, if you’re here: just a lil warning that this one has a spoiler you haven’t heard about and may also not make much sense without context

Some advice on moving, for people whose boyfriends are neurotic freaks:

1\. Do not offer to help with packing his stuff.  
2\. Do not offer to help with _un_ packing his stuff.  
3\. Do not question the overly specific box labels.

Unfortunately, most of this was not knowledge that I had before we moved to New York. So, on the second day in our new home, instead of wandering the spacious rooms of the condo, taking the elevator in between the two floors just for the hell of it, and drawing in the sun on the balcony, I find myself in a corner of the bedroom, sorting through boxes labeled shit like “nightstand top drawer,” “closet upper shelf,” and “dildos (non-battery)”.

“You know,” I tell Brian when he comes in with yet another box, “you could just have put ‘bedroom’ on all of them. Wouldn’t have made much difference.”

He stares at me, brows furrowed, for a second, and then goes back to looking down into the new box with intense focus.

“By the way,” I say, after a few minutes of watching him look back and forth between the dresser and the closet with his arms crossed, “did you pack the tape measure somewhere? I need to-”

“That one,” he says, pointing to the “misc. #4” box behind him, not turning away from the wall he’s now studying.

I’ve already opened the flaps when he turns around and says “Wait, no, shit-”

I take out the matted pencil sketch that’s lying on top. It’s obvious what it is, him, asleep, but it takes me a second to put it all together.

He’s radiating faked calmness next to me. Given the circumstances, probably fair.

I look at him. “You bought this?”

He sighs.

“Brian,” I say. “Did you buy my drawing?”

He fiddles with a piece of tape. “Yes.”

I stare at him. “Brian.”

He raises his eyebrows.

“ _Brian_.”

“What?” he says, a little sharply.

“Why did you buy this? Why didn’t you tell me?”

He sighs again, and comes to sit on the bed, across from where I’m kneeling next to what is apparently a box of secrets. He looks down at the drawing for a second before he speaks again.

“I don’t know, and- I don’t know.”

He’s not quite looking at me, and there’s the faintest hint of a blush on the tops of his cheekbones. God, he’s cute.

“ _You_ were my first sale?”

He’s stopped looking so frightened, sort of, and I can see the corners of his eyes crinkling a little, how they do when he’s trying not to smile. 

“It was tax-deductible,” he says, pulling his lips into his mouth, still a little twitchy, but I’m mostly focused on what he’s just said because holy shit-

“You gave the GLC a hundred dollars so you could have my drawing?”

He glares at me halfheartedly. “Would you stop _smiling_?”

I get up and push him back on the bed. “Nope, it’s too adorable.”

“It is _not_ adorable,” he says. I kiss him on the cheek.

“You loooooooooooooooooooooove me,” I say, with that many Os.

He snorts and rolls us over. “No shit.”

“I can’t believe you bought that stupid drawing.”

Brian shrugs, but he’s starting to smile for real now. “It’s good.”

I grin. “Were you making an investment?”

He nips at me and presses my arms out to the sides. “The price was right, for an up-and-coming artist.”

“I can’t believe you were the first person who ever bought from me,” I tell him, and this time he does smile.

“So you said.”

“You acted like you didn’t even _like_ me.”

He looks at me. “You were way too young to get involved for real with someone like me.”

That’s a good one, and I have to laugh. “You gave me mixed signals for _ethical_ reasons? Yeah, right.”

Brian rolls his eyes and kisses me again. “I liked it, so I bought it,” he says. “End of story.”

I kind of want to call bullshit, because no story where Brian and me are involved ends in seven words, but he’s warm and heavy on me in our big comfy bed in our perfect new home, so I figure we have better things to do.

***

A few hours later, I wake up sprawled over Brian. The windows are dark - as dark as they get in New York, anyway. He’s sound asleep, snuffling peacefully into a pillow, so I’m careful not to wake him as I lift myself up off the bed. I really just want a glass of water, but when I turn back and look at him, I get a better idea.

I wake up slowly the next morning, Brian curved around me. His breathing makes me think he’s awake, and I find I’m right when I stretch and he makes a little groaning sound and turns me over to kiss me.

“Morning,” he says. I smile, then remember. 

“I have something to show you.”

I reach for the nightstand and pat around until I find my drawing tablet. I turn it on and show him the screen, and he laughs.

“What’s that?”

I bump his shoulder. “What do you think? It’s a portrait of you. Sleeping.”

Brian looks at me. “Is this from last night?”

I smile and shrug. “Figured an updated version couldn’t hurt.”

Brian touches the screen, careful as always to avoid the drawing field itself. I can’t read his expression.

“Do you like it?” I say, finally.

He shifts closer into me and pulls me in for a long, long kiss.

“Have I ever not?” he says, when he draws away.


End file.
